Measure of a Man
by xiWritex
Summary: A modern re-telling. Quasimodo, dealing with feelings of discontent about his lonely life, takes a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be free of his bell tower for a few hours, but when things go badly at the annual Easter Picnic of Our Lady Maria Church and he meets a young lost girl the two have a chance to discover the real meaning of friendship.
1. Chapter 1

"Quasimodo." My master, Frollo's, voice came in greeting from the top of the stairs that led to my lonely wing of the church. Frollo

"Master." I bowed my head in respect for this man, or maybe fear. Okay, mostly fear. It's not that Frollo is mean. Quite the contrary; Frollo took me in, to live as his ward 21 years ago, when my mother abandoned me. He is the arch deacon of Our Lady Maria catholic church. It was truly a miracle that he found me. Alone, and crying on the steps of the church. It's not every day you find someone who would take pity on someone who looks like me.

"Are you ready to review your lessons?" He asked me as he placed our lunch on the table; two tuna fish sandwiches, baby carrots, and water. Again. I tried to look eager as I took my seat at our small table. In truth I had been watching the volunteers set up for the annual easter picnic. It was a huge event, people from all over the city came every year. There was always singing, and dancing, and a contest where they crown the 'biggest fool'. Frollo has never let me go. I know he is only trying to protect me, but I can't help but wish I could be down there with the other kids my age.

"Oh, yes master." Oops. Not enough gusto, Frollo regarded me sternly for a moment, as though trying to read my thoughts through my eyes. I looked away quickly and busied myself with enjoying my sandwich. After a moment Frollo must have been satisfied because he quickly launched into my lesson for the day; our alphabet.

"A?" Frollo asked, taking a small note pad out of his breast pocket. He wrote his thoughts throughout the day in there; observations or ideas for sermons.

"Abomination." I answered.

"B?" He asked again, giving no praise for the correct answer before. I know I should be used to it by now, that someone like me is lucky to be here at all, but sometimes I cant keep myself from imagining what it would be like to have someone…I don't know, care about me.

"Blasphemy." I parroted. There it was; an almost imperceptible nod of approval. My heart swelled.

And so we went, from A all the way to O. I was practically grinning from ear to ear, I was getting them all right! Maybe if I got all the way to Z without any mess-ups he would think about letting me go to the picnic…

"P?"

"Picinic!" It practically exploded from my lips; like stones they fell onto the table and sat between us. I wished so badly I could rewind time and take those words back. I really messed up. I was too ashamed to look at my master's face. I knew he would be furious.

"What…did you say?" Frollo hissed.

I winced and kept my eyes down; no going back now, "It's just that you always go. I thought maybe I could-"

"I have to be there, Quasimodo. I don't enjoy a second of that friviouls nonsense. As if the Lord's work is best recognized with a drunken party; when all the nonbelievers crawl forth like the sinners they are." He stood and knocked his chair backward, it clattered to the floor. Before I had a moment to relax I felt his clawlike fingers close around my shoulder. His nails digging in where the muscle was too large to fit his hand around. He dragged me to an oval on the wall where a sheet hung. My mouth went dry; I knew what was coming.

Frollo's thin fingers grasped the sheet and yanked it free to reveal the mirror. In one movement he thrust me forward toward the horrifying reflection in the mirror. There is always a moment when my stomach seems to drop and my chest hollows out on the few times like these when I see my face; my body, in the mirror. I watch the horrible face twist into a grimace as my eyes take in the protruding hump that juts out of my left shoulder, hunching me down so that I appear about a foot shorter that I would if my bones weren't twisted; the large wart that sits above my right eye, which sags a bit lower than my left. My nose, pushed up, looked reminiscent of a pig; and my awful mouth, full of twisted teeth.

I felt my heart break as I dropped my head into my hands and covered my face. I didn't want to see anymore. I didn't want to see ever again. This is why I could never go to the picnic. Never be among real people. I could never subject them to the punishment of looking upon my hideous face.

I felt Frollo's hand, gentler now, on my shoulder as a guttural cry escaped my twisted lips.

"Now, Now, Quasimodo." Frollo soothed. He removed his hand and I didn't take my hands away from my face until I head the sheet being replaced over the mirror.

"Do you see, now, why you can never go?" He asked, grabbing under my chin and forcing me to look at him, "You're ugly. You're deformed. If you go, I promise you. People will taunt you. They will jeer. You will be rejected, do you understand?" He gave my cheeks a painful squeeze before letting them go.

"I said, 'Do you understand?'" He asked more slowly. I knew what he wanted, we had been though this before. I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut.

"I am ugly. I'm deformed. I don't belong with normal people." The words felt like razor blades in my mouth.

"And…?" Frollo prompted.

"I am a monster. I am nothing but a monster." My voice was small. I dropped to my knees in front of the covered mirror. I could be wrong, but I thought I caught the ghost of a smile cross Frollo's lips.

"I've got to get ready for the picnic." Frollo said suddenly, grabbing his notebook off the table and turning for the door. Before he left he looked back. Now he really was smiling, "Remember, Quasimodo; This is where you belong."

From my spot on the floor I heard the door click closed, only when I was alone did I pull my face from my hands. Frollo was right, they would never accept me. I stood slowly and crossed the floor to the only window I had to look out from. They all looked so happy; living their normal lives. There was a woman and who I presumed to be her husband holding hands and watching a group of men raise the great spinning stage where the 'Fool' would be crowned. I sighed and looked at my hand, no one would ever hold it that way.

I figured, maybe if I wore a disguise so people couldn't see my face, I would be fine. I could just slip out for an hour or two, be back here to ring the evening bells and Frollo would never know.

I felt an energy that I hadn't felt before. It felt like big things were happening; life changing things. I grabbed my tattered old hooded sweater from where I had stashed it under my bed when the weather got warmer. Just for one day, and then I would never do it again.

AN: H'okay! What did ya'll think? This is my first shot at this, but it has been in my head and now it's on the internet. If you enjoyed don't forget to leave a review! If you hated it, please still leave a review and tell me why you hated it! If no one is reading this and I am just speaking to dead air…well them; Habble-dee-blooo and diddle-dee-doo, I know how to tie my shoe! Bing-Bong-Tittly-Tong, Lets all sing a song!

(I swear I'm not crazy!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, sorry for the very rough draft of Chapter 1! I'm new to the site and I cannot figure out how to replace it with the copy that I actually proof-read. So, I promise I will not fail you again! If you have stayed with me this far; THANK YOU!**

**So, I am doing this switching between my Main Character (the Esmeralda character. Don't ask me why I don't use her when I easily could have. I just like to make up my own *hides*) and Quasimodo. **

**Special thanks to my reviewers!**

**Isabelle: This is really great! I love feeling everything Quasi's going through. Please update soon  
**_**THANK YOU! 3 I have been reading HOND stories for some time now and couldn't really find many from his POV. I feel like I need to give him a voice. Your support is really appreciated! Xoxoxoxo  
**_

**Guest: So beautiful  
**_**GAH! 3 Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it despite the numerous grammatical errors and sentence structure fails!**_

**And now! Without further ado; CHAPTER 2!**

I couldn't believe my father was forcing me to perform my title winning solo at his stupid church picnic. He has been the organ player at Our Lady Maria church ever since my mother died and he found Jesus and the catholic church. And in his weird quest to become star congregation member he had volunteered me to perform the dance that won me the title of National Champion at this year's NDC (national dancer's competition) before the annual crowning of the 'Fool of the Year'; a barbaric tradition that only serves to allow people a platform upon which to embarrass themselves in front of a bunch of drunk bible thumpers. Given my not so recent denouncing of any and all religion on the basis that it doesn't make sense to my brain (even though my heart desperately wishes I could believe that I will see my mom again). I do not identify as an atheist, because atheism is a religion in and of itself. I am not happy about my disbelief in a higher power. Quite the contrary, it began a cycle of anxiety and fear of the future that I have never before felt.

"Princess?" My dad called down the hall from the kitchen.

I shook my head at the nickname. At 21 I had outgrown it by a wide margin, and besides; princess don't lose their virginity in the back of a Ford Escort after an awful school dance their senior year.

"Yeah, dad?" I called back, mentally going over a checklist in my mind; had I forgotten to take the trash out?

"Phoebus is at the door!" My heart began to beat like a bass drum in my chest. I quickly stood and took inventory in the mirror. Ugh, why now? When my hair was unwashed, and my contacts had been irritating my eyes today at dance practice and I swapped them for my ugly grandpa glasses when I got home and hadn't planned on switching back until later that day for the picnic. My dad said there was no use in spending money on trendy glasses when I was going to be wearing my contacts most of the time anyway. On some level, I could understand that. But when the guy you have major feelings for is at your front door, higher thinking like empathy tends to go out the window in favor of more superstitious worries.

"I'll- uh- be right down!" I stammered, letting my blond hair out of its short pony tail and trying to simultaneously finger comb it into something resembling a real person and spritzing my perfume in the air and hopping through it. Phoebus and I have been friends since third grade; he has been there through my mom passing, my awkward angry teenage years, he was there when I found my passion for dancing. I've never had to be anyone other than myself with him; a year ago I wouldn't have cared if he saw me all scrubbed out and grubby-looking, but lately something has changed in the way he looks at me; his eyes are softer and he stares just a little longer than he used to. I don't know what it means, but I know that I like it.

When I finally emerged from my room, still wearing my glasses, Phoebus was in the living room with my dad watching some local college basketball game. When he sees me he smiles and stands. He has the most amazing smile; a little crooked and almost too big for his face. His shaggy blond hair falling in his eyes he says my name, "Juliet", like it tastes good in his mouth.

I blush, "C'mon. Let's go out to the backyard and talk." I say, nodding in the direction of the back door.

He shook my father's hand before joining me at my side. I tried to hide the flush of pleasure that was warming my neck and cheeks.

"Are you excited to dance today at the picnic?" Phoebus asked me, the smile in his voice told me that he knew good and well I was not excited.

I rolled my eyes and picked at a fuzz on my sweater, "I don't know why he insists on dragging me to his stupid church. He knows how I feel and it's like he chooses to ignore it."

Phoebus' eyebrows knit together in the center, he knows about me losing my faith, "I wish there was something I could do to help you, but faith can't be given."

I shove his arm playfully and note the muscle definition under my hand. When had that happened?

He must have noticed me staring because he shifted a bit uncomfortably and gave a short laugh, "I know, I know. You don't like to talk about it." He smiled at me.

"It's not that I don't like to talk about it," I sighed, I hated having to explain over and over again the inner workings of my mind. Why couldn't there be someone I could talk to that would just…I don't know…_get it_, "I just feel like a person's relationship with religion is deeply personal. It's like announcing to the world that you just had sex. It's intimate and I don't need to hear about it. I have my relationship with God, I just don't really know what that relationship is, or if there is a God to have a relationship with and it's no one's business but mine."

"Okay, tiger." Phoebus put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed. The smell of his after shave made my spine tingle, "I'm sorry. Scouts honor, I won't bring it up again." He smiled his crooked smile and released me. I fought the urge to jump back into his arms and live there forever.

I cleared my throat, "So…are you going to be at the picnic?" I asked, busying myself with picking at my sleeve so it wouldn't look like I cared very much about the answer one way or the other.

I heard Phoebus chuckle next to me, "Of Course, Juliet. I wouldn't miss it for the world." Then he stooped down and planted a kiss, "I have to go and get ready, and so do you." He winked at me, causing me to blush an even deeper shade of red, "I'll see you later."

"Juliet!" My father beamed with pride as I stepped out of the dressing room in my costume, "You look beyond stunning. Your mother would have been so proud of you." He said, wiping a tear away from his eyes. I smiled. My mother was a dancer too, before she was a mom. This costume was reminiscent of the one she wore when she won her own national title. The dress was short, one piece and looked like it was made out of spun gold. I had a golden flower crown to match that made my short blonde hair look a million times more impressive than the longest curls ever could.

"Come now, love." My father held open the flap to the dressing room for me, "They're about to announce you."

As soon as my feet hit the grass I was reminded of why I hate this event; a drunk man toting an impressive bear belly knocked into some poor kid and sent him sailing into me, knocking both of us to the ground. The worst part was that he didn't seem to notice at all.

"I- I- I'm sorry!" The boy said to me.

"Excuse me!" I said to the man with the gut.

"Well hel-oh, beautiful." The drunk man slurred to me when I got his attention. I shrunk away, wishing for a moment that my legs weren't bare. I shifted my eyes to the boy still trying to stand.

"No harm done." I said, holding out a hand to help him up. He hesitated before taking it. He was wearing some old raggy hooded sweater that covered his face. He was hunched over and a large prosthetic hump was rising up from one of his shoulders. I struggled not to roll my eyes; someone who wanted to win "Fool of the Year."

"Nice costume." I gestured to his unsettling get-up.

"Oh…Well-I.." He stammered. He was interrupted by the MC of the event shouting too loudly into the microphone.

"Ladies and Gentleman welcome to the stage for our viewing pleasure the beautiful, the talented JULIET MILLER!"

Without a backwards glance at the hunchbacked boy I took my spot on the stage.

As soon as my music filled the air I was transported away from this stupid picnic with it's stupid drunks; I was back on stage at Nationals. I let my mind wander and be replaced with pure muscle memory. I felt the way I always do while dancing; invincible.

When the music ended I was breathing heavy on the stage and the entire place went up in a roar. I was showered with flowers. I grinned and did another bow. Maybe I had been wrong; this place wasn't half bad; not if they could appreciate her dancing.

"Beautiful, beautiful!" The MC took the stage once again, "Let's have another round of applause for this lovely lady." Again the crowd exploded. I blushed, okay, now I wanted to get off the stage.

"Maybe if we ask reaaaaally nicely we can convince miss Juliet to help us crown the Fool of the Year!" The MC screeched into the microphone. The audience cheered their pleasure at the thought.

I hated every second of this stupid event, I didn't want to be a part of the crowing process but I had little to no choice in the matter; what with the crowd of drunks looking at me expectantly and cheering my name like some sort of hero.

I pulled all of the contestants onto the rotating stage; one man wearing a horrifying mask from some horror movie that had come out ages ago, one in an evil monkey mask, another in a zombie get-up that looked decidedly home-made, and the man with the hunchback costume. His was by far the most impressive. He had somehow gotten the latex of the mask to move with his own facial expressions. He smiled at me; I shuddered. It was creepy.

The crowd cheered for all of the contestants, like sheep. No one really starts cheering, do they? If you were in a library and just stood up and started clapping and screaming "Woo-Hoo!" people would look at you like you were crazy. Mob Mentality is a fascinating phenomenon.

With a flourish I pulled the first man's horror movie mask off of his face; the crowd crowed their displeasure. The man slumped his shoulders and exited the stage. The other's followed suit with a few discrepancies; like the zombie giving everyone the middle finger and (I'm sure) losing him his spot on the Church's prayer phone tree. When I went to finally pull off the Hunchback's horrible mask, it stuck. It wouldn't move an inch. I looked into his scared eyes and realization hit me like a ton of bricks; this hideous mask was indeed, his face. I recoiled in horror as gasps came from the crowd below us.


	3. Chapter 3

I knew I was in trouble when the dancing girl grabbed my arm and pulled me on stage. To be honest, I was still in a bit of a daze. That performance was not one I was expecting to see at a Church picnic. She had danced like a professional; her movements were powerful, like she was putting all of her strength into each turn or kick. But what really got me was her face, aside from being beautiful, her love and passion for dancing shone through so brightly I would have turned away; convinced I was intruding on something privet, had I not been hypnotized by the way her body moved. I didn't snap back to reality until she was in front of me again, tugging at my face.

She thought I was in costume! I saw the realization in her face as she saw that my face was a curse I was born with, not something I had donned for pleasure. My chest contracted when a look of revulsion had replaced the one of confusion.

"It's not a mask!" Someone from the audience shouted.

"That's his real face!" Another added.

"My God, he's HIDIOUS!" Came yet another. The crowd erupted into gasps of horror and exclamations of how ugly I am. I should never have left my tower! Ashamed of my ugliness, I hid my face in my hands and dropped to my knees. I prayed for mercy from God; for disobeying my master, who had been right all along, for looking the way I do, for thrusting my ugliness on the world.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" The MC crooned, laying a hand on my hump, "We asked for the biggest fool of the year. Here he is, this Hunchback!"

I chanced a glance through my fingers and was shocked enough to pull my hands from my face entirely when the crowd began to cheer. I looked for my master and found him sitting at the head table, glaring at me.

The crowd continued to cheer as they draped a cape over my hump and tied it under my chin, handed me a plastic golden scepter, and placed a rubber Joker's crown on my head.

I felt a tear escape my eye and roll down my cheek; Frollo had been wrong! They were accepting me! Not only that, but they were cheering my name. This was a warmth I had never felt before; better even than the sun on my face. I looked into the sea of smiling faces that surrounded the stage I had watched being set up for so many years. I couldn't believe I was standing on it, finally. I reached my arms up in victory, sending a silent prayer to God, thanking him for this perfect moment that was better than even my wildest dreams. Not even Frollo's angry stare could ruin this.

It's strange how when something awful happens the details get mixed up in your mind; I swear I heard the silence of the crowd first, and then felt the tomato hit my face. It came sailing up from the crowd, and hit me square in the awful wart above my eye. I reached my hand up in surprise, and was confused when I pulled it back covered in the same warm, sticky goop that was now running down my neck.

"Now, THAT'S ugly!" I heard someone scream from the silent crowd. My chest tightened, I was confused. What had changed? My chest rose and fell violently as I looked into the crowd. I felt like I couldn't get any air. I should have run then, but my feet were frozen where I was standing.

"Here you go, you're highness!" Came the mocking voice of another faceless member of the crowd. This time, I had the warming. I threw my arm up to protect my face, the tomato smashed against my forearm. That was the last moment of clarity I had before the noise erupted. It was laughter, different from the happy laughter of a few minutes earlier; this was cruel laughter. Another tomato hit me in the side of my face, and egg cracked against the ugly hump on my back. I took a step backward; surprised by the onslaught, and stepped on the slippery carcass of a rotten tomato. The laughter surged harder as I fell on my back, rolling slightly to the side due to my hump.

I couldn't hear what they were yelling out to me, probably a million things. There were phases that I could catch, if only because they were words I had heard my whole life. Words that I knew were spoken about me;

"Hideous!"

"A monster!"

"Ugly!" Over and over again.

I tried to shield my face but it was no use. I stood as quickly as my deformed body would allow and made a move to run from the stage, back to the safety of my Church wing; where no one could see my ugliness.

"Not so fast, hunchback!" I heard from the crowd. Each word felt like a punch in the gut, the laughter was louder than the bells in my ears, "The fun is just beginning!" Before my foot could take another step I was being strangled, a lasso had been thrown around my neck, dragging me backward. I couldn't go anywhere. I pulled with the hand that wasn't holding the stupid plastic scepter I had been given, trying in vain to free myself. The crowd boomed louder with laughter as I struggled; taking pleasure in my humiliation. Finally the man with the rope succeeded in dragging me down to the stage floor.

"He looks like a half-formed pig!" Someone shouted. I winced, my name meant Half-Formed.

He pulled as hard as he could, I couldn't breathe. I reached up again with my free hand and a new lasso was tossed around the wrist of the hand holding the scepter. He tugged and I released my grip and it went clattering into the crowd. I was still being pelted from all sides with rotten fruit and eggs. My clothes were wet and sticky, I could barely see with the goop running from my hair into my eyes. It seemed as soon as I had cleared them another thing would hit me in the face.

I let out a cry as the man with the rope around my neck and the man with the rope around my hand pulled in opposite directions.

"Go back to hell where you came from, monster!" A woman screamed as she threw an entire head of lettuce at me, it collided painfully with my pushed up nose. I couldn't tell if the tears streaming from my eyes were from the physical pain of being hit with food or from their words and their laughter.

I let out a cry and used all of my strength to stand, I pulled the man holding the rope to my hand off of his feet as I got to my own. A dozen more ropes flew from all directions, I felt my hump rip though the fabric of my ill-fitting tunic from the strain of trying to pull myself free from the ropes. Seeing my deformity naked made the crowd go wild. I felt exposed and hideous. Someone threw another rope and looped it over my hump and around my shoulder and pulled me to my knees just as two large bouncers climbed to the stage. I thought they were there to help me. I reached for one of them, pleading with my eyes. The look on their faces told me they were not there to save me.

"You're not going anywhere, ugly." One of the men said before he spat in my face.

The other man laughed, "You're getting what you deserve now, monster."

They jumped on me, tying my hands behind my back, just above my feet, the rope that held my neck in place was secured to the stage floor; I couldn't hide my face from the crowd. My bare hump felt ugly and exposed as they made me immobile.

"Enjoy the ride!" The first man said as he finished tying me to the stage.

I looked hopelessly into the crowd. They cheered for the two men who tied me up. I felt them begin to spin the stage, so everyone was able to look at my shame, on display, and try to get their fruit to hit the target. Their faces twisted and then blurred as I spun. Tomato after tomato hitting my face.

"Master!" I begged, closing my eyes as an egg burst in my face, "Master, please!" He turned his head away from me, "Help me!" I cried again. No one was going to come to my aid, there was nothing I could do but sit helpless and take all the crowd had to give.

Whenever the stage came to a stop they would spin me again, and again. There was no way to block out the sound of their words, which hurt so much more than the physical pain. They hated me, and who could blame them? I was a mistake.

Soon the crowd began to dwindle; people got bored of tormenting the monster and wandered off to find more alcohol and socialize with the other normal people. Fewer and fewer food items were being pelted at me. I hoped they would free me soon. My body hurt from being tied down, from fighting. I could feel bruises forming on my face, arms, and hump. Smaller crowds began coming up.

A group of people my age, who had clearly gotten into the communion wine stumbled up to where I was exposed and tied down, I shrank away from them. They looked terrifying in their beauty, cruel snarls played on their lips.

"Janie, why don't you give the monster a kiss?" One of the boys pushed a blonde girl toward me. She screamed and jumped back.

"Ew! Who would ever kiss a face like that?" She shivered like she was shaking off imaginary bugs. I turned my hideous face away, humiliated. She was right after all.

"Hey guys," Another of the boys said, calling the attention of the others. He began to spin me himself. With a much smaller group I could hear what they were saying, even if they were acting like I couldn't.

"He is SO ugly!" Squealed one of the girls, "Kristin, I dare you to touch it!" The blonde girl pushed her friend toward me. She had called me 'it'. Frollo was right. I'm a monster.

"No!" She squealed, "I might catch the ugly!"

One of the boys picked a stick up off the ground and began poking me in the face and my hump, "Hey, ugly?" He tried to get my attention, "Ugly, where'd you come from?" He laughed while he poked me. His words hurt more than being poked with the stick. This boy was my age, he looked normal. He had someone to love him. I was nothing better than scum on his shoes. I cast my eyes downward.

"You should really be in the circus, ugly." He said again, causing all of his friends to laugh.

"That's not funny." The voice came from somewhere behind me. I couldn't see who had spoken. I knew it was a girl's voice. I tensed, waiting for what was coming next. The group of friends rolled their eyes.

"Moment-Killer-Miller!" The blonde, whom I now knew to be Kristin, sing-songed; making the others laugh.

"That stopped being funny back in 8th grade." The disembodied voice retorted, she almost sounded bored.

"What, Juliet? You want to be the one to kiss him?" No! I wanted to scream at this little dolt, No one wants to kiss me!

All at once the girl who had danced before the crowing strode purposefully into my view. I remembered her look of disgust upon seeing my face and recoiled from her. She was so beautiful, it caused me great shame to be next her; when next to her my ugliness must shine even more than it did usually.

"This is really pathetic, even for you." She spat, "We are in collage, this shit was supposed to be over by now." She reached into her jean pocket and pulled out a knife that she flipped open and used to cut me free of my bonds. She turned back to the group, giving them a look that could have stopped their hearts dead if they hadn't been intoxicated.

One of the boys did a thumbs-down sign at her and made a rude noise with his mouth before grabbing 'Kristin's' hand walking away, the others in tow. She watched them go, her back to me.

I shrugged the remnants of rope off my back and hurried; as fast as my stiff wobbly legs could, to stand. For a spit second I wished I wasn't still wearing that stupid floppy joker's crown that the MC had placed on my head before the crowd turned on me. In the next second I realized that it didn't matter if I was wearing this stupid hat, or anything at all, for that matter. All she would see when she looked at me was a monster.

I ran before she could turn around; before I could see her seeing me. I simply couldn't bear to see the look of horror cross and disgust she would undoubtedly give me again. She had saved me, yes, but that didn't mean she would be kind. Who could show anyone like me kindness?

I limped through the doors of the church and climbed the stairs to my lonely dwelling. Once I reached the top I ripped the stupid crown from my head and threw it with all of my might to the floor. Frollo had been right all along. This is where I belonged.; away from people. I ran my big, clumsy fingers over the grain of wood on the wall and I tried to ignore the fresh tears that fell down my ugly face.


End file.
